Maundy Thursday
Rebecca Clancy
Ephesians 5:1-3 Acts 3:1-8 John 13:1-6
As newly called conscripts, Jesus’ disciples made up a decidedly ragtag corps.
Jesus’ first conscripts were Peter and his brother Andrew. Peter and Andrew were, as we all know, fishermen. It’s safe to conclude that Peter was the dominant brother. Peter was always the one to take the lead. He was always the first to speak up. And he was always right at Jesus’ side. In fact, for many key parts of Jesus’ ministry, Andrew was nowhere to be found. He was probably sick of being in Peter’s shadow all the time. No doubt he had been there his whole life long.
Jesus’ next conscripts were James and his brother John. Again, they were fishermen. James and John were nicknamed the Sons of Thunder. They must have been fishermen with attitudes. And their attitudes toward Peter and Andrew could only have been competitive. How could it be otherwise? Two sets of brothers? Both sets fishermen? One set nicknamed the Sons of Thunder? And in fact, James and John were known for being competitive. They once took Jesus aside and requested the number two and number three positions in whatever it was that Jesus was hatching. They weren’t even sure exactly what it was, but they were sure that they deserved to have higher positions than the others.
Jesus’ next conscript was Matthew. Matthew was not, thank heavens, a fisherman. Had he been a fisherman, it would have complexified group dynamics beyond confusion. Matthew was, rather, a toll collector. This, in fact, would have clarified group dynamics. The four fishermen now had a common enemy. Toll collectors were collaborators with Rome. Not only did they collect tolls from the peoples Rome occupied to pay for their use of Roman roads, but they were notorious for overcharging then skimming off the top. Where there is money, of course, corruption is in the wings. The fishermen may have had their personality flaws – birth order issues, delusions of grandeur, and the like -- but at least they were not traitors and thieves.
No doubt the plot thickened with the conscript Judas. Judas was a zealot. You could say that zealots were the opposite of toll collectors. Toll collectors were collaborationists. Zealots were insurrectionists. Zealots opposed Roman occupation with fanatical and violent zeal – hence the name zealot. Their modus operandi was guerrilla warfare. They were known to have mingled among crowds with daggers concealed in their cloaks with which they stabbed Roman sympathizers. This definitely discouraged Roman sympathizers. Rome, in turn, invented the crucifix to discourage Zealots. You can imagine the dynamics between Matthew the collaborationist and Judas the rebel - not exactly kissing cousins.
And then there were the rest of the conscripts – Philip, Bartholomew, Thomas, James, the son of Alphaeus, Thaddaeus, and Simon. Not much is written about them, because there was probably not much to write. We could presume them to be slackers. All Thomas is known for, for example, is his doubt.
Yes, the newly called conscripts made up a decidedly ragtag corps. It’s a wonder they could be in the same room together. As far as I can make out, they had but one thing in common. They all hoped to get something out of Jesus. They had taken a risk in reporting for duty, albeit not much of one. They didn’t have that much to lose. A toll collector? A zealot? A quartet of fishermen? A handful of slackers? They definitely had more to gain than to lose. But none the less they had taken a risk in reporting for duty. None of them were quite sure what Jesus was establishing, but he was establishing something, and in taking a risk in reporting for duty, they had staked their claim.
And now it was payoff time. Jesus was finally getting down to brass tacks. He had made a name for himself throughout all the land through his provocative words and works. He had processed into Jerusalem to public accolades. He had captured the interest of every Jew in the city. The momentum made it certain. The disciples would now receive what they hoped to get out of Jesus. Visions danced in their heads – the fishermen, of prestigious appointments; the toll collector, of money; the zealot, of the overthrow of Rome; the slackers, of sinecures. Jesus had gathered them all together in one room. Their eyes were fixed on him with anticipation. And what did Jesus do? He washed their feet.
Peter, true to his personality, would have none of it. That was a servant’s job, and a servant’s most menial job - to wash feet caked with sweat and dirt and dust. Peter sat stupefied with horror as Jesus took off his outer robe and kneeled down before him, “Lord are you’re going to wash my feet?” he cried in dismay. Jesus persevered, saying, “You do not know now what I am doing, but later you will understand.” Jesus tried to impress upon his disciples again and again that even in their incomprehension they must trust him, but it was always for naught, as it was now. Peter declared defiantly, “You will never wash my feet.” But Jesus was not to be dissuaded. “Unless I wash your feet, you have no share in me.” Jesus was now threatening to disown Peter, and this was not lost on him. He repented immediately, “Lord, not my feet only but also my hands and my head!” But Jesus’ intention was not to be altered. And so, he washed their feet.
And when he had finished, he attempted to explain why he had done so. “If I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. I have set an example that you should do as I have done to you.” So that was it? That was what they were going to get out of Jesus? Jesus was nothing more than a servant, and they were expected to be the servants of a servant? There’s only one way it could have been any worse. They could have been expected to be the servants of a servant of a servant.
Had they had time to consider the matter, they would have surely decided to pack it in. First thing in the morning, it would have been back to the nets, back to the toll booth, back to schemes to overthrow Rome, back to the slacking. But they hadn’t time to consider the matter. Before the next day dawned Jesus was arrested by his enemies, and the chain of events was set in motion that would lead to his execution.
All this renders downright inexplicable that some few weeks later, Peter and John, no longer ragtag in any sense of the word, now in perfect harmony of purpose, were about the streets of Jerusalem healing in Jesus’ name. For instance, they encountered a crippled beggar at the gates of the temple, that same temple that Jesus had lately cleansed. Peter declared to him, “I have no silver or gold, but what I have I give you, in the name of Jesus Christ, stand up and walk.” And he did.
And not only were they healing in Jesus’ name, they had taken up Jesus’ cause over against his enemies. And when Jesus’ enemies began to persecute the disciples as they had Jesus, Peter with perfect courage of conviction, proclaimed, “If we are questioned because of a good deed done to someone who was sick…let be known to all of you, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ, whom you crucified, but whom God raised from death…. ‘the stone that was rejected by the builder, has become the corner stone.’ There is salvation in no one else.”
The disciples had become servants of the servant - and with no hesitation, reluctance, trepidation, or equivocation. Just the opposite, in fact. They were sure. They were enthusiastic. They were fearless. They were convicted. And so, what did the disciples come to learn between then and now?
They came to learn the qualitative difference between what they wanted to get out of Jesus and what Jesus wanted to get out of them. What they wanted to get out of Jesus was in service to themselves. It was, therefore, selfish. And it was worthless, really, of no real value or substance. It would live with them so long as they lived, and then it would die with them.
But what Jesus wanted to get out of them was service to humankind in his way of redemption. It was, therefore, selfless. And it was worthy, of real value and substance. And, yes, it would live with them so long as they lived, but it would never die, just as he never died. It was just like he had taught. It was a treasure hidden in a field which someone found and, in his joy went and sold all he had to buy that field. It was the one pearl of great value who someone sold all he had to buy.
And learning the qualitative difference between what they wanted to get out of Jesus and what Jesus wanted to get out of them, learning the qualitative difference between service to themselves and service to humankind in his way of redemption made all the difference in their lives.
And it makes all the difference in our lives as well. Friends, he conscripts us too to be servants of the servant; and so, “Be imitators of Christ, and live in love, as Christ loves us and gave himself up for us…” Amen.
Romans 8:25 Waiting on the Lord Many years ago, almost too many to count, I had the opportunity to study the Old Testament at the University of Edinburgh. That means that I had the opportunity to live in Scotland for a time -- so I am here to tell you that there is more to Scottish culture than kilts and bagpipes. There is the Scottish national dish -- Haggis to be precise. In case you’re unfamiliar with Haggis, it is made from the liver, heart, and lungs of a sheep. They pack them into the sheep’s stomach, toss in a little oatmeal, and boil it. I only tried it once. Once was enough. Then there’s the Scottish national flower – the thistle. You see thistles everywhere -- on flags, coats of armor, dishware. They were once even featured on the currency. I would have thought that heather would have been a better contender for the Scottish national flower -- it is everywhere, and it’s much less prickly -- but no one consulted me. Then there’s the Scottish national poet, Bobby Burns. Burns wrote in Old Scottish. I actually picked up quite a bit of Old Scottish during my time in Edinburgh. I pride myself that I can recite much of his poetry by heart. Old Scottish is unintelligible to the modern ear, but the Scots still love him. I used to walk past the Scottish National Gallery of Art on the way to class. You could peer in the front door and see the famed portrait of him. If you’re unacquainted with his work, he wrote, To a Mouse. To a Louse. And, I kid you not, Address to a Haggis. And then, of course, there’s Greyfriars Bobby. I guess you could call Greyfriars Bobby the Scottish national dog. Grayfriers Bobby was a good Scottish breed -- the Skye Terrior. He and his master were inseparable, and after his master’s untimely death, Greyfriars Bobby remained at his master’s graveside -- day in and day out -- for 14 years, until he himself died. Greyfriars Bobby is a testament of devotion and loyalty not just to the Scottish, but to everyone. A statue of Greyfriars Bobby stands in the heart of town. At the funeral of his master, when the casket was being lowered into its final resting place, Greyfriars Bobby gave way to grief. He whined, whimpered and pawed at the grave. Beyond his grief, however, Greyfriars Bobby settled into a daily routine. Every day, when the 1:00 gun was fired, a man by the name of William Dow, who had befriended Grayfriers Bobby, picked him up at the cemetery. They strolled together to a local coffee shop, where Grayfriers Bobby ate his daily meal. After a bit of socializing, they strolled back to the cemetery. Greyfriars Bobby settled back onto his master’s gravesite and watched the sunset. There were attempts to lure Greyfriars Bobby away from his master’s graveside, especially in inclement weather, but they were fruitless. Greyfrirs Bobby refused to leave. Greyfriars Bobby is all the proof I need that dogs go to heaven. Do you really think that he when arrived at the Pearly Gates to be reunited with his master, Peter, who Jesus entrusted with the keys to bound and to loose, turned him away on the grounds that he was a dog? That makes no sense to me. And I’m sure it made no sense to Peter. There’s a lesson we can learn this morning from Greyfriars Bobby. And lest you register skepticism that there’s a lesson we can learn from dogs -- this is the whole point of the book of Ruth – that we can learn lessons in unexpected places. Ruth was a despised foreigner. She was feared. She was suspected. She was accused. Yet there were lessons that the people of Israel learned from her. There are lessons we can learn in unexpected places. At least that’s what the Bible proclaims. And it’s not just Ruth. It’s Ruth, yes. But it’s also the Good Samaritan; it’s the Magi, it's the Roman Centurion, it’s the Canaanite woman, it’s the Ninevites, it’s the Ethiopian eunich, it’s Cornelius. And if the Bible hits you over the head with something that many times, and you still refuse to accept it, you’re just being stubborn. There are lessons we can learn in unexpected places. And the more unexpected the place, the more important the lesson. Sure, there’s a lesson we can learn from Greyfriars Bobby about loyalty and devotion, but there’s also a lesson we can learn from him about waiting for someone. Because if you think about it, we are all waiting for someone. Every one of us. It could be someone who is angry with us – someone who holds a grudge against us, someone who dislikes us, someone from whom we are estranged. It could be someone who is stationed at a far-flung corner of the earth -- someone who is called to serve and sacrifice, someone who has placed himself in harm’s way, someone we may never see again. It could be someone who has fallen prey to an addiction – someone who is facing an uphill battle, someone who has made strides only to fall back, someone whose potential and possibility are under siege. And it could be, like with Greyfriars Bobby, someone that we lost – someone who is irreplaceable, someone who enriched and defined our lives, someone who spared us from loneliness and aimlessness. We are all waiting for someone. And so, we can learn a lesson from Greyfriars Bobby, and it is this. Yes, for a time we grieve their absence. We weep. We mourn. We despair, even. We do all these things…for a time. But then we must get back to the business of living. As Langston Hughes reminds us, Life is for the living. We must get back to the business of living – of caring for others, of speaking the truth, of practicing fairness, of sacrificing for others, of sharing our abundance, of striving for peace – of doing the best we can to prove, day by day, that we have heard the upward call of Jesus Christ. While all the while we are waiting for someone. But here’s the thing. We don’t wait in vain. Because we wait, ultimately, through Jesus Christ -- so we wait for our eternal home in heaven where those for whom we wait are waiting for us. And we will know that joyous reunion that Greyfriars Bobby and his master now know. Amen.
John 20:1-18 But why? Why did Mary stand weeping outside the tomb? There is, of course, the easy answer. Mary stood weeping outside the tomb because, arriving at the tomb, she discovered that Jesus’ body had been stolen. But that’s the easy answer. Easy answers are, as often as not, simplifications; and simplifications are, as often as not, distortions. So, let us look beyond the easy answer and ask again, Why did Mary stand weeping outside the tomb? Mary was one of those people whom nature had favored. And nature does play favorites -- that much is undeniable. Mary was tenacious, discerning, steadfast, spontaneous, courageous – not to mention brimming with natural affections. Yes, she was one of those people whom nature had favored, but sometimes that is not enough. Mary had a bad start in life, and that tends to temper even nature’s most generous gifts. When Jesus first encountered Mary, she was not of sound spirit. She was afflicted and tormented. But Jesus performed a miracle that recalled her to life. She became his passionate and devoted follower. It would seem that her past was behind her. Like with so many others Jesus encountered, Mary had been lost and now was found. But this only led her to the foot of his cross. She had endured the entire spectacle. Dark men – petty, jealous, and scheming -- closed in on him. They subjected him to a farce of a trial, and this only as a formality. They intended to see him executed from the very beginning. The disciples, for their part, panicked and scattered. What if they were next to be targeted? But not Mary. She abided with him those endless hours as he hung on the cross right through to his death agony. She watched from a distance as Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus deposed his body from the cross and laid it in a tomb. Mary was shattered. She was traumatized. She was devastated. She was forced to endure the unthinkable – the death of one deeply beloved, and to malicious violence. But Mary was not entirely bereft. She still had his body. She could cleanse and anoint it, bestow upon it what loving care she could. And going forward she could become that person – the one who visits the graveside, the one who keeps memories alive, the one whose tears are never exhausted. In time she would achieve a sort of notoriety for it, but it’s the kind of notoriety no one wants. But she arrived at his tomb only to discover that his body had been stolen. So why did Mary stand weeping outside the tomb? She stood weeping outside the tomb because she had hit rock bottom. I have never hit rock bottom. If dread keeps it at bay, dread has done that much for me. But I have seen others who have. It’s a terrible thing to witness, much less to experience. A kind of derangement takes hold. They aren’t recognizable. They aren’t themselves. This is why Mary couldn’t add up two and two. She peered into the tomb and saw two angels robed in white raiment. Why are you weeping? They asked. Now they didn’t ask because they wanted to hear her theory about the graverobbers. This was not the sense of their question. Woman, why are you weeping? They were asking to convey that there was nothing to weep about. And it was the same thing when the resurrected Jesus asked the same question. Woman, why are you weeping? There’s nothing to weep about. I am alive. I am here. I am with you. Dry your tears. But Mary had hit rock bottom, so it didn’t add up. But then Jesus said something. Something cataclysmic. Something earth shattering. Something beyond description and explanation. And something right under our noses. If there’s one trait we all share, one thing we are all good at, one thing we are all GREAT at, it’s not seeing what’s right under our noses. Jesus called her by name. Mary! he said. And suddenly the truth broke in on her. Dimly, but at the same time, and paradoxically, with crystal clarity. She knew. She knew how we know most deeply – in our bones, in our guts, in our hearts. This man so beloved by her – her teacher, healer, leader, friend….he was much more than that. He was the one that time could not bind, the one that darkness could not thwart. He was the one over whom death had no dominion. He was the one she declared him to be. He was the Lord. And he called her by name . Rock bottom? There was no rock bottom. There was only hope, consolation, meaning, purpose, direction, relief, and rejoicing. From his height to her depth, he called her by name. Rock bottom? She now had good news to proclaim, and she proclaimed it for all she was worth. Friends in Christ, her good news is our good news. No matter what you’ve done, what you are doing, or what you will do. No matter how low you fall. No matter how deep you sink. No matter how bad you’re stuck. His deliverance has your name on it. His triumph has your name on it. His love has your name on it. So let us call him by name – Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.
I Samuel 16:4-5 Matthew 5:9 To set the scene for our Old Testament lesson -- Tension was rife. Anxiety was rife. Dread was rife. And why? It was because there was conflict, and conflict produces tension. Conflict produces anxiety. Conflict produces dread. And let’s not pretend that it doesn’t. The hold outs among us might stick their chests out and assert that conflict has no effect on them -- that they are immune from conflict. But personally, I’m a bit skeptical. As I’ve mentioned before, in my various vocations and avocations, I have been subjected to psychological tests. And not just a few of them. And one of the areas that is tested is how you react to conflict – whether you are conflict tolerant or conflict intolerant. According to the tests, I am conflict tolerant, as conflict tolerant as one can be. According to the tests, there is nothing that makes me more comfortable, and more relaxed, and more at ease than conflict. Conflict? Bring it on. There’s nothing I relish more. At least according to the tests. But why is it that in the face of conflict, I become preoccupied. I can’t get it off my mind. I become sleepless. I toss and turn at night. And I feel an enormous sense of relief when the conflict is resolved. So, in my own experience at least, conflict produces tension. Conflict produces anxiety. Conflict produces dread. And that leads us back to our Old Testament Lesson. Talk about conflict! But to understand it, we must back up a bit. In fact, we must back up quite a bit. We all know that Moses received the Ten Commandments atop Mt. Sinai. We all know that with the Ten Commandments in hand, Moses wandered with the people in the wilderness for forty years toward the Promised Land. But we might not all know what happened next. What happened next is that Moses died. Moses was succeeded by Joshua, who conquered the Promised land. And after that? The people settled onto the Promised Land. Since the people were comprised of twelve tribes they settled into the Promised Land accordingly. Each tribe deployed itself on a parcel of land. And they all lived happily ever after. Or not. Problems emerged in short order. The tribes did not get along. Surprise, surprise, the strong tribes picked on the weak ones. Why is it that at all times, and in all places, the strong pick on the weak? But that’s another question. Bottom line, there was disunity among the tribes. Beyond that, they were twelve tribes who each deployed itself on a parcel of land. But they were surrounded by enemies, enemies that had not been wandering around in the wilderness for the past 40 years. Enemies who were trained to fight. So, the people were threatened from within and from without. The closest thing that they had to a leader was Samuel, so they demanded of Samuel a king, a king to unify them and protect them from their enemies. Samuel listened to their demand and anointed King Saul. King Saul was the man of the hour. He was a standout. He stood head and shoulders above all others, was strikingly handsome, and teamed with charisma. He was clearly meant to be. So once again, they all lived happily ever after. Or not. There was something wrong with Saul. Now sometimes when there is something wrong with someone it’s obvious, it’s easy to name – as in the case with addiction, or physically abuse, or mental illness. But sometimes it’s not obvious. Ask twelve scholars what was wrong with Saul, you’ll get twelve different answers. For whatever reason, he proved not to be the stuff of it. He had some fatal flaw. Was it his temper? Was it his jealousy? Was it his paranoia? Was it his anger? Was it his desperation? Because all those things can prove to be fatal flaws. In that last analysis, it doesn’t matter what was wrong with King Saul – simply that there was something wrong with him. Predictably, those closest to him saw it first. But no one else was inclined to believe them. They believed what they wanted to believe, what was easiest to believe. And this is how it goes. The ones closest see it first, and no one is inclined to believe them. Moveover, they didn’t want to face the fact that King Saul was one big false start. But King Saul had some fatal flaw. And fatal flaws are fatal. King Saul deteriorated. It became increasingly difficult to deny. Conflict was brewing. It was not yet open conflict. Soon it would be and in terms too horrific to describe. But rumors were circulating. The atmosphere became charged, and not in a good way. Not one knew just how the thing would play out, but everyone sensed that it would not end well. And that brings us to our Old Testament Lesson. Samuel arrived in Bethlehem, unannounced, unexpected -- in full vestment and with full retinue. What did he want? Why did he single them out? What had they done wrong? Was he there to exact vengeance? In a spark would they all be dead? To set the scene for our Old Testament lesson -- Tension was rife. Anxiety was rife. Dread was rife. And why? It is because there was conflict, and conflict produces tension. Conflict produces anxiety. Conflict produces dread. And so, the people approached Samuel with a question. It was the right question. It was the key question. It was the decisive question. It was this question: Do you come in peace? If you remember one thing about this passage, if you remember one thing about the whole book of Samuel, remember this question. Do you come in peace? Because the people’s question to Samuel is the people’s question to us. Do we come in peace? In the face of conflict do we come in peace? Do we come in peace, or do we come bearing blame for things for which we know we are full well complicit? Do we come in peace, or do we come exacting retribution demanding an eye for an eye? Do we come in peace, or do we come rehearsing old grievances, resentments, jealousies, and grudges? Do we come in peace, or do we come pressing our advantage -- power up, poised to defeat? Because the people’s question to us is also Christ’s question to us? Do we come in peace? Have we gone that extra mile for the one who has burdened us? Have we turned the other cheek? Have we declined to let the sun set on our anger? Have we made peace with our accusers? Do we come in peace? For Christ declares that the peacemakers would be blest, and that through them, but only through them, would his kingdom grow. Amen.
